Life With A Conscience
by wispykitty
Summary: If Hector were the Earth, then Paris was the wind, one strong and steady, the other free and fearless. While the ground is solid and firm, never much moving, the wind is a thing that cannot be contained. HXP
1. 5am

**Title**: Life With A Conscience (5am) 1/1 (for now, at least)   
**Pairing**: Hector X Paris   
**Warning**: None, surprisingly! Well except that it deals with M/M relations!   
**Summary**: If Hector were the Earth, then Paris was the wind; one strong and steady, the other free and fearless. While the ground is solid and firm, never much moving, the wind is a thing that cannot be contained.   
**Comments**: I suppose one could say this is a song fic, of sorts. This story is based entirely on the song, every bit of inspiration I had was gleaned from the lyrics. The song is "5am" by Appleton. If you have the song, put it on when you read this. If you don't have the song, I highly suggest you go and find yourself a copy, because that song completes this story. Regardless, I've included the lyrics. But go and get the song, because it's really beautiful and gorgeous, and could inspire yet more wonderfully angsty stories! [/Appleton plug] This story has nothing to do with the events of the movie.

_It's 5 o'clock in the morning  
And I give up on sleep  
Life with a conscience  
I decide to walk away  
  
So I find my possessions  
And slide from your room  
Ignore all regrets  
I push myself into the street_

_I, I, I don't want to talk  
I've said my piece  
and I'll just go now  
I would love to believe I'd be  
content to wait  
with you again  
  
At 6 o'clock in the morning  
you'll awake all alone  
and pause for a moment  
to damn or bless me  
as you wish  
  
I, I, I don't want to talk  
I've said my piece  
and I'll just go now  
I would love to believe I'd be  
content to wait  
with you again  
  
I agree, it would never be right  
and I'll just go now, and I'd love to believe  
and I'd be content to wait with you again, again, again  
  
I, I, I don't want to talk  
I've said my piece  
and I'll just go now  
I would love to believe I'd be  
content to wait  
with you again_

* * *

His gaze boring into the back of Hector's head, eyeing his brother's light brown curls, Paris slowly pulled the sheets back from his legs, trying to rise from the bed without making too noticeable a movement. His feet finding the cool stone floor, he grabbed onto the headboard, using it for leverage as he pulled himself upright. Now standing, he turned around, his eyes flickering back to the sleeping form below him. Studying his motionless brother, Paris felt his heart constrict at his thoughts. How he longed to crawl back into the warm bed and snuggle up to Hector, seek out an audience in his brother's protective arms. The embrace of Hector had often been an anchor for the younger man throughout his life. No matter the problem or the opposing party, Paris had always been able to count on his older brother for guidance and support. But things were different now. Hector had a wife, but more so, his brother was now a father. These facts had lately begun to pull at Paris' conscience. Could he continue to share a bed with a man who had a family of his own? The fact that he had taken his brother on as a lover had never really bewildered the younger one, not the way it would bewilder anyone who knew not the Princes of Troy. Priam's boys had always been close, inseparable in body, mind and spirit, as brothers should be. But the closeness had evolved over the years, and eventually they had taken to sharing each other's bodies.  
  
Closing his eyes at the sudden rush of memories that pushed their way to the front of his thoughts, Paris held fast to the frame, determined not to weaken in his resolve. Opening his eyes again, he looked down upon his brother one last time before moving away from the bed. Bending down to retrieve his clothing from the floor, the younger prince quickly dressed. Each moment his eyes lingered on Hector was another moment spent wishing to return to his brother's bed. As he kneeled to fasten his sandals to his feet he paused, almost unwilling to stand again for fear he would change his mind. But stand he did, each footstep carrying him closer to the door. Once he felt the handle of the door graze his fingertips, Paris gripped it, the cool of the steel somewhat strengthening his crumbling resolve.  
  
If Hector were the stone, the foundation of the building, Paris was the sleek and cool steel used in the handle. A pretty thing that looked slightly out of place beside the stone, something used only to open doors, to reach destinations otherwise unattainable. Sleek, smooth and delicate all in one, yet if tested, one that would never break. On the other hand, stone always appeared strong, even while crumbling. As steel would withstand the pull of time, stone would begin to crack, to show signs of wear. But even as fragments were lost and shards were discarded, stone would still stand as a sign of strength. Stone was of the Earth, it's naturalness representing the hearth and home, strength akin to family. Made by man, steel represented the forging on of society, the draw of war, the declination of morality.  
  
Pulling the door open, Paris crept out of the room, lingering in the hallway, looking in on Hector still. He knew he ought to leave before his brother woke. But still was he drawn to this place, to the bed upon which his favourite pillow now rested. So peaceful was Hector in sleep, the lines of worry which creased his face in the daytime gone, eased away by the tranquility of dreams.  
  
What of Hector's dreams, his desires? Was it truly proper of him to leave without discussing it with his brother? For so long they had been a pair, inseparable. Now that bond was breaking. Paris told himself he was doing what was right for Hector. He was reversing their roles.  
  
Hector would never give him up. Even if their relationship threatened his marriage, he would never give up the closeness to his little brother. If life still lived on in Hector, he would prefer to live it with Paris close by. Though his heart yearned for his brother, Paris was not foolish. What he and Hector shared was not natural by any stretch of the imagination. If word ever got out of their love making, Paris feared the repercussions it would cause for his brother. For himself he feared naught, for as the younger Prince of Troy, no great responsibility lay on his smaller shoulders. Men would not look to him for guidance and reassurance during a time of battle. But as for Hector, the elder brother was poised to take over as King one day, and he could not afford the distraction of sharing his bed with a younger man.  
  
Though he knew their parting would cause much sorrow and grief to Hector, Paris thought it best that he end the charade now, before any complications arose. That final thought flitting through his mind, Paris pulled the door closed, his hand resting a moment longer on the steel handle. Long had he contemplated departure and long had he prepared himself for it. Returning briefly to his room, he picked up the small bag already packed, hefting it over his shoulder as he moved to his dressing table. There, upon the top, were two letters. One, addressed to his father, and the second, addressed to Hector. Both letters full of regret, they appeared to be similarly written. But if you paid attention, you would notice the subtle differences in wording. Differences subtle enough to answer all of Hector's questions, without raising any suspicion from others who might partake in reading something so personal. Paris made no direct mention of he and Hector's romantic relations, but he said more than enough so his brother would understand his true intentions.  
  
Slipping out of his room, Paris made his way to the stables, readying his horse to be mounted. Slipping one foot into a stirrup, the younger prince flung his other leg over the white beast, settling himself comfortably upon his steed. Urging the horse forward, Paris came out of the stables, making way for the city walls. Calling upon the guard to open the gate, he was greeted with questions, inquiries as to his early morning departure. Explaining simply that he wished to go for a ride, ignoring the curious glances placed to the bow and quiver of arrows he wore upon his back, Paris demanded once more that the gate be opened. There were no questions this time, and quickly he was free of the constriction caused by the heavy stone walls.  
  
Urging his steed to break into a run, Paris sought comfort from the feel of the wind rushing past his skin. If Hector were the Earth, then Paris was the wind; one strong and steady, the other free and fearless. While his brother would spend countless hours planning, building and training, Paris would spend his time upon the back of his horse, flying through the countryside. While Hector preferred to spend his spare time at home, making merry with food, drink and loved ones, Paris preferred to be out in the open, to feel the wind rushing past him. The differences between the two were nearly countless, it was as though they were one separated: Hector, the body; Paris, the mind. Put the two together, and one heart would you find.  
  
As he rode on, thoughts poured continuously through the head of the younger prince. Would Hector come after him? Would he allow his favourite object of affection to slip from his grasp so easily? Hoping for his brother's sake that the crown prince would understand Paris' sacrifice, he also could not help but hope that Hector would be stubborn, that his brother would hunt him down and drag him back to the city. It wasn't that he wanted to leave, if it were possible for Paris to remain in the city he would, but he knew that by staying he would only leave more room for longing. Hector needed to be free of all distractions and unfortunately he was the biggest one.  
  
Stopping for a moment to give his horse a rest, Paris turned around in his saddle, his eyes flickering back to the statuesque outer walls of the city. Looking up at the sun, Paris judged from it's position that it was nearing 6am, and soon Hector would wake only to find him gone. It would not take his brother long to find his letter and Paris intended to be far from the city when that happened. Turning back, Paris urged his mount to continue forward. If he were to make good distance from the city, he could afford no time for tarrying.  
  
Usually when he rode hard against the wind, the eyes of the youngest Prince of Troy became wet with tears, for the rush of air against them would offer no alternative. But on this day Paris fought hard to keep them dry. If his eyes were to become moist now, then tears would threaten his composure. If his composure were to break, he had no doubt that he would turn his horse around, return to the city and beg the forgiveness of his family. But wind would never blow steel off of it's path, and Paris would not be deterred from his. It was for Hector that he had made his choice, and he would not do his brother the disservice of changing his mind. That was a thing only for fools and cowards, neither of those titles befitting the younger Prince of Troy. Not anymore, at least.

* * *

**End notes**: Oh my god the rhyme was entirely unintentional! But upon reading it again, I like it, so it stays, in all it's corny glory. As for the story, that's all for now. But if there's enough call for a sequel (which would be called 6am and would focus on Hector) then it might yet be written. I won't promise anything though! For anyone wondering, I'm still working on Rebuilding Paris, just waiting for my beta to finish before I post anymore of that. I wanted to write something else though, because there's still such a lack of Hector X Paris! We need more Brotherly Love! 


	2. 6am

**Author Notes**: Well, well, well! It indeed appears that my Troy muse has returned after a two year absence! Yay. :) I had originally intended this as a one shot, then considered at least writing Hector's version, then after chatting with a friend decided to turn it into a full fledged, multi chaptered story, then did nothing with it. But inspiration had struck me anew, and I plan on actually going through with the whole story. But for now, we see Hector's response to his little brother's selfless act. Enjoy!

* * *

As though waiting precisely for the hour to arrive, the first filtering rays of sunlight fell on the half empty bed inside the stone walls of the palace, creeping closer with every second to the face of Troy's favourite prince. Hector stirred slightly, instinctively turning over to face the other side of his bed, his arms reaching out in sleep for the figure that'd spent the night pressed against the prince's back. When they met only air, it was enough to raise Hector from slumber finally. Blinking open still tired eyes, the elder son of Priam encountered only surprise as he saw the empty bed. Had Paris risen already?

Sitting up in his bed Hector turned to survey the room, expecting Paris to be standing over him, his expression smug as he chastised his brother for sleeping in. But there was no sign of the young man in the room, and as Hector looked further still, his brother's haphazardly strewn clothing was also missing. Perhaps the younger brother had gone for breakfast?

Rising quickly, Hector slipped into clothing of his own, leaving his room to descend toward the dining hall where he expected to find Paris. As he walked the halls of his home, Hector was left wondering as to the waking morning's revelation. It was unlike Paris to leave his bed so suddenly in the morning; even if the younger man rose before his brother, usually Paris would kiss him awake and tell him that he was departing. But this morning his brother had left without completing the routine and Hector worried slightly. When he finally reached the hall and peered inside, he was shocked once more to find no trace of his brother.

Perplexed, Hector returned once more to the hall in which the princes' rooms were, his curiosity now marred with the slightest twinge of fear. Where was Paris? Seated on his balcony, perhaps? Of course, Hector chided himself for his worry, his little brother so loved to sit in the open, preferring the view from his room to Hector's. The elder brother's room faced into the palace courtyard, while the younger's faced to the land that stretched far beyond the palace walls.

How Paris loved the outside land, the freedom of the earth stretching out before him for miles, the sun lighting his way. Paris could not long be contained inside the walls and Hector believed at times that his little brother remained only as long as he did for his sake. If there was one thing the youngest prince of Troy enjoyed as much as the freedom of roaming the land on horseback, it was Hector's company. His thoughts pleasant, Hector opened the door to Paris' room, glancing inward and toward the balcony. His heart dropped when he did not see his sibling. Stepping into the room and glancing about, Hector's eyes at once fell on the letters that rested on his brother's table. Broaching the distance in a few steps Hector immediately picked up the letter addressed to him, his stomach twisting into knots before his eyes took in even a word. This was unlike Paris.

His eyes fell on the contents of the letter and as he read on, he sank to his brother's bed, his knees unable to support the shock his heart was suffering. His brother's neat and smooth writing was easy to read, but the meaning behind his words was a bitter pill for Hector to swallow.

_My beloved brother—_

_It is with deepest regret and sympathy that I am bound to inform you of my decision to leave the palace. This decision is of my own making and the actions of no others have influenced it; my own heart has driven me to this path. You above all others have always known my love of life beyond our palace walls, my brother; you alone have laid witness to the joy my heart feels upon the open plains of our land._

_I ask that you accept my decision to leave, my brother, and look to your duties as crown prince and husband to your wife before making any rash decisions. I will be safe; place your trust in the Gods to protect me and no harm will come my way. The chance of my return is slim at best, and though my heart aches at the separation, I fear it would wither if I remained within the stone walls of our home._

_I have always admired your strength, devotion, love, and dedication to all around you my brother, be they comrades in arms, farmers who reside outside our palace walls, or family. I have always held you in highest regard and there is naught you could do to influence my decision otherwise—I have made my choice and we must live with it, though I fear the pain will be great for both of us._

_Do not come looking for me, Hector. Please accept my apology at this swift parting, but I fear if I were to discuss the matter with any face to face, my resolve would crumble and I would be forced to remain, a captive in this jail of stone. I am of the free land, a spirit meant to wander the whole of our realm, so know that I go now to a life befitting me._

_I will be with you always in heart, my brother._

_Paris_

Hector felt nothing when he first read through the letter, his shocked mind closing off access to his heart in fear that his grief would be too great for him to think rationally. Though the letter appeared as little more than the sorrowful words of a brother departing his family, Hector knew there was more. The reminder of his duty as crown prince, and moreover as husband, had been sharp as the sting of any physical blow. Even though as the elder, the responsibility should have lain with Hector to acknowledge the trouble their bond posed, it had been young Paris, often seen as irresponsible and selfish in the eyes of their people and many of their friends, who had been the one to end it.

_The fool!_ Hector was sliding now past shock, his emotions tumbling all at once into his heart and clouding his mind. _He is a prince of Troy; his place is here, at the palace!_ Hector raced at once to the balcony, flinging open the doors and standing outside, his eyes straining to see into the countryside, hoping for any indication as to where Paris had gone. Though in his mind he knew his brother would have ensured he was well out of view by the time Hector awoke, his heart demanded that he scour the land before him for any sight of his brother.

As expected he saw nothing and with each expanse of empty land, his heart constricted. How could Paris have left him so simply? Had they not shared their love only last night, had Paris not gazed up into his eyes in the aftermath of their passion, proclaiming that his love for his brother would forever go unequalled? And now Paris was gone, with only a letter for all of Hector's worries! As he continued to stare out to the plains Hector's heart filled for the briefest of moments with anger, failing to understand how his brother could be so cruel!

But the moment the thoughts raced through his head, Hector felt ill. If anyone were to blame for this recent turn of events, it was himself, after all. Had he not been the one responsible for their relations in the first place? When they were younger and after their mother had passed, had Hector not sought out every opportunity to hold his sibling close, to assuage both their broken hearts with a closeness not to be understood by any others? Had it not been his own lust for his brother that had driven him to make the first move? But Paris had never flinched, had never backed away from any of Hector's plans. _You fool; you gave him no choice but to love you. Now look where your misplaced affection has gotten the both of you!_

Barely able to brace himself Hector returned to the room, knowing that his best bet was to go to their father, bring him Paris' letter. Priam would decide what was to be done and though a part of him, deeply protective of his little brother, knew that Paris would be happier living outside the palace walls, another part of him, the part that longed for his brother's fair skin, soft lips, and bright smile, wished that Priam would order his youngest returned to the palace. He knew the second option was highly possible, since the king had a soft spot for his youngest and often forgot that Paris could hold his own quite well.

Picking up the letter, Hector stole down the hall, turning a corner and coming to stop before the door to his father's chamber. He knocked sharply and opened the door at once when the king bade him enter. He strode across the floor, a look of worry crossing his handsome features as he reached his father, thrusting the paper to him.

King Priam was shocked to say the least and slightly fearful when he saw the look on his son's face. Not noticing the offered paper at first as his eyes were still glued on Hector's expression, Priam finally looked down when Hector rattled the paper. Taking it gingerly, Priam at once noticed the writing was his youngest son's.

_My dearest father and king—_

_It is with deepest regret and sympathy that I am bound to inform you of my decision to leave the palace. This decision is of my own making and the actions of no others have influenced it. You must have noticed by now, father, that I have never taken an interest in matters concerning the kingdom, not in the way my dearest brother has. You yourself often found me gazing through the windows during those times when you bade me to sit during your court. Though you often chided me for neglecting my duties, I know that you realized early on that I preferred life outside the city walls and longed to be free of the captive hold of royal responsibilities._

_I ask that you accept my decision to leave, father, and look to Hector to fulfill the dreams I could not carry out for you. He is the son you deserve to have reside alongside you, father. I will be safe; place your trust in the Gods to protect me and no harm will come my way. The chance of my return is slim at best, and though my heart aches at the separation from family and from our people, this is a path I must follow._

_You have been the epitome of strength, devotion, and dedication to all around you, father. I have always held you in highest regard and there is naught you could do to influence my decision otherwise—I have made my choice and I beg of you to accept it._

_Do not send Hector to look for me, father, and please do not allow him to go if he seeks permission. Please accept my apology at this swift parting, but I fear if I were to discuss the matter with any face to face, my resolve would crumble and I would be forced to remain. I am of the free land, a spirit meant to wander the whole of our realm, so know that I go now to a life befitting me._

_Though I know you will be sorrowful at our parting, please believe that this is very hard for me and even though I will eventually be happier living on the land, my heart will be heavy, for you and our kin._

_Forgive me, father._

_Paris_

Priam stood rooted to the spot, surprise and shock crippling him. Paris had left? But there had been no warning, no signs of unhappiness and uneasiness! How had this occurred beneath his very nose without any sign? Looking to his eldest son, Priam shook his head. "This does not make any sense, my son." Unaware of the relationship of his boys, Priam could not accept that his youngest son's longing to roam freely across the land was reason enough for him to leave and not return. He had never denied Paris when he asked to take leave for a few days of riding; he had never pressured him to fulfill all his duties as he ought to have done.

Hector watched his father, curiosity eating at him. _Well, father? What do you wish?_ Hector wondered how their letters differed, if Paris had told their father to dissuade his oldest from leaving in search of him. He remained before his father, his features etched with worry, both for his brother, and for his father's decision.

Priam looked to his eldest, confusion clearly evident on his features. "This does not seem right, Hector. Why would he leave for these reasons? It's unlike him." Priam turned to walk to his own balcony, stepping onto the stone and looking out over the courtyard. The city was beginning to stir, soon Paris' departure would be noticed, and what then? "My heart tells me that there is more to this story, my son. Perhaps," Priam turned his eyes to Hector, "perhaps there is something else troubling him, some danger he faces that he wished not to impart. Or perhaps these letters are not from him at all! It's not entirely impossible that someone wishes to stir trouble in our realm, what if he has been taken, Hector?" Priam grabbed the prince's hands, his mind now running wild with worry. If he had stopped to consider everything in the letter, he would have known that Paris was in no danger at all and the choice had been solely his. But the king couldn't bear to believe that his son would leave willingly. He refused the idea.

In a split second, Hector's heart made its decision. Clasping his father's hands strongly, the crown prince met his father's grave look with one of his own. "You speak wise words, father. If I left now I might be able to track him, or track whoever has taken him. Lysander and Aeneas could remain to form other search parties, but perhaps it is best if I were to set out quickly first, we have lost enough time already." Though Hector knew, deep down, that the only danger his brother was in was dabbling in his grief, he could not admit this to the king. Their father didn't know, couldn't know. Though Hector knew Paris had made the ultimate sacrifice for him, he could not allow it. If Paris were not here with him, then Hector could not foresee himself being of much use to the kingdom. It was obvious now to him that even though he had spent his life protecting Paris, forcing the younger royal into needing him, that Hector himself had forged too strong of a bond to his younger sibling, that he was now the one who needed Paris.

To Hector's relief, his father agreed immediately. "Yes, you must set out immediately! I will speak with your captains and spread the word, my son. I fear for Paris if you do not act now. We may already be too late." It was often said that while Hector was obviously the better son, the more worthy of affection and attention, that Priam had always favoured the younger Paris, overlooking the youth's attitude and faults in favour of his son's happiness. While Priam did hold a great deal of affection for the eldest of his sons, it was true that in matters concerning Paris the king had a tendency to overreact. Fear of losing his favourite son always gripped him, but even so he'd allowed Paris the freedom to move about as he pleased. Usually Hector always went with him, and though Priam did not know the true closeness between the brothers, he did know that Hector held Paris in the same esteem that he did, and that so long as he lived, he would die himself before seeing any harm fall to his brother.

Hector nodded his head at once. "Thank you, father; I will prepare my provisions now and set out. Please ensure my wife is told the truth, father. I don't wish to wake her in my haste to set out. She will have faith that I will return unharmed, as must you. I will see you before I depart." Hector left the chamber once Priam nodded to him, quickly gathering his things to set out. His only worry now would be in convincing Paris to return home with him. He knew he would meet resistance, but he also knew that he alone was the only person in all of Troy that Paris had trouble refusing. Could he possibly live with himself if he managed to guilt his brother into returning?

Brushing those thoughts from his mind, Hector finished packing and set off at once for the stables, readying his horse for the mission. _I'm coming for you, little brother. I pray only that you find it in your heart to hear me out and return, lest my own heart breaks.  
_

_

* * *

_

Author Notes: Aww! So Paris has wound up the strong one after all, the unbending steel, while Hector has started to crumble under the pressure. As mentioned above, I will be continuing on with this! Will Paris allow Hector to find him? Will he even have a choice? And what lengths will Hector go to in order to get Paris to return home with him? Ah yes, the angst shall be heavy, that much is promised. :)


End file.
